


Journey Home:  Of Pride and Intimacy

by Impracticaldemon



Category: Hakuouki
Genre: Drama & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-19
Updated: 2017-12-19
Packaged: 2019-02-16 20:25:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13061514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impracticaldemon/pseuds/Impracticaldemon





	Journey Home:  Of Pride and Intimacy

**Author's Note:**

This story is an afterword, or perhaps sequel, to  **I Will Find You**. More importantly, it is a belated birthday gift for  **Lakerae** (FFnet) /  **hidetheremote**  (tumblr), who is a dyed-in-the-wool, true blue, ride-or-die KazaChi fan of the finest kind: one who allows me my own biases for other ships, listens to my doubts about her own ship, and remains a friend.

As I almost always say at this point, "this story got away from me". While remaining faithful to its initial premise and purpose (to focus on Kazama and Chizuru, and to provide a friend with some steamy interaction between her favourite couple), it got a lot more detailed and a lot longer (and a little more steamy) than originally intended.

~  _ImpracticalOni_

* * *

**Journey Home: Of Pride and Intimacy**

* * *

"I once asked you to tell me about the Oni," Chizuru ventured late one evening, as they began the long journey back from Ezo. Although it had hurt to leave Hijikata alive, but with his future undecided, Chizuru had known the parting to be final—she had given everything she could to the Shinsengumi, including her life's blood; now it was time to find out if she could make a home for herself with Kazama-san and the Oni. That goal, and Kazama-san himself, was her buffer against the deep sadness that threatened to overwhelm her.

"I remember." His voice was as deep and resonant as ever, but his expression was difficult to read. They hadn't spoken much since leaving the last of the war behind them.

"I am in your care, Kazama-san," Chizuru murmured, eyes on the dancing flames of their fire. It was June, and the weather was fair, but they were still a long way north. She had wrapped a blanket around herself to stave off the night's chill.

"Yes." Ruby eyes appeared to glow in the firelight, as Chizuru's companion raised his head to study her. After a moment, the blond Oni rose and closed the short distance between them, dropping gracefully to sit beside her and wrapping an arm around her to pull her close. It was an unusual gesture for him. Then again, until early this morning they had been aboard a small boat carrying a handful of grim-eyed refugees with the blank faces of those who had lost too much. Chizuru's heart had bled for them, but there had been little she could do, and her first duty was now to Kazama-san.

Their relationship was being defined and explored and refined every day. Kazama-san was still coming to terms with both Chizuru's long-awaited acceptance and the fact that he had somehow set aside his pride and obligations in order to accompany her to Ezo. He had lived with her for many weeks in Sendai, had arranged for their passage to the island battlefield, all the while unsure of her feelings for Hijikata of the Shinsengumi and what would happen if and when they met. Amagiri-san had never believed that his overlord was doing so much for the sake of curiosity, or in order to destroy the remaining fury, although those things had been important as well.

The point was that Kazama-san had been vulnerable; had called her back to him on the beach when they had landed on the southern beach of Ezo; had been relieved—although that was a weak word—when she had promised to return to him as soon as she had done what she needed to do. He had even spared the fury's life—Hijikata-san's life—which was perhaps the greatest concession of all. It was complicated.

Chizuru leaned into Kazama-san's warmth, enjoying the reassuring grip of his arm around her. He was still in Western garb, as was she, for easier travel on horseback. The wool coat he wore was thicker and far less yielding than a kimono; despite this, Chizuru could feel taut muscles under the stiff fabric. Eventually, she would have to find more appropriate clothing for herself. The close-fitting tunic and trousers did nothing to hide her gender, and she knew that her companion disliked them. Perhaps she could find a kimono and serviceable hakama once they reached Sendai—such as it was after the SatCho army had wreaked three centuries' worth of vengeance on the area and its inhabitants. War and then anguish and then anger and then war… would it ever stop?

"Do you still have questions?" asked Kazama, bending his head so that his breath caressed her ear. "I thought that we had talked about almost every aspect of Oni life on the way  _to_  Ezo?"

Chizuru gathered her courage, still not quite sure of her footing with Kazama-san. He had always wanted her to come with him, away from the danger (and contamination?) of human turmoil, but even now she wasn't perfectly certain whether it was personal affection—another weak word—that drove him, or the needs of his clan and the dictates of his strange sense of honour. Or perhaps it was sheer, stubborn pride? At least she had come to understand that for all of his flaws of temper and arrogance, not to mention his contempt for human life, he had truly believed himself to be in the right when he first tried to abduct her from the Shinsengumi.

"You have told me about the Oni clans, Kazama-san—those that remain that you know of—and the way that human conflicts have burdened and threatened the safety of the Oni. You have also told me a little about how the Oni live, and why you want to gather the Western clans and lead them to safety and concealment." Chizuru felt Kazama-san tense a little at the last part and knew why. Amagiri-san had pointed out that Kazama-san's position as an Oni, let alone as Lord of the Western Clans, had been seriously jeopardized when he had insisted on accompanying Chizuru to Ezo in search of the Shinsengumi.

"What I'd really like to know"—Chizuru hesitated, uncomfortable despite her resolution to be as straightforward as she could—"is more about the, the more  _personal_  customs."

"Oh?" Suddenly, Kazama's tone was teasing. "Are you finding it difficult to restrain yourself around me, perhaps?"

Chizuru felt the blood rushing to her face and ears. And yet, she had been prepared for something like this—it wasn't the first time Kazama-san had asked her such a thing. In the past, he had offered (or threatened) to kiss her; another time he had asked if she actually  _wanted_  him to carry her off by force. The situation had been very different back then, however. It had taken desperation for her to ask to travel with Kazama-san (but she had trusted him!), and three months or more of travel and close quarters (and frustration) to reach the greater understanding they now shared.

With as much dignity as she could muster, Chizuru pulled away slightly so that she could look more easily up into his face. She squared her shoulders and met his eyes.

"Yes, that's part of it."

Kazama was clearly caught off-guard by her blunt answer, and she thought she saw a flicker—more than a flicker—of interest in his gaze. He recovered quickly, but Chizuru was too sensitive not to notice that there was a different kind of tension between them now. After four years with the Shinsengumi, surrounded by men and occasionally accompanying them to their parties in the red light district of Kyoto, she could even recognize it for what it was.

In any event, Chizuru couldn't deny the attraction that had been there almost from the start, at least on her part. Kazama-san was a beautiful man, as well as strong, intelligent, and honourable… by his own standards (which were the problem!). Whenever they met, Chizuru was struck again by the powerful combination of elegant good looks and a magnetic personality. Fortunately or unfortunately, the attraction had usually been quickly overwhelmed by fear and distress because of the way that the Oni lord had treated Chizuru's human friends and protectors. Kazama-san had blood on his hands, and more than a little. So did the Shinsengumi, of course, but their options had been far more limited than those of a powerful Oni when it came to maiming and killing. As ruthless as they were, few of them killed casually.

Kazama-san and Chizuru had bewildered each other, perhaps. Neither had easily given up their pride, or their outrage at the other's behaviour. But at some point, Kazama-san had made up his mind to at least  _listen_  to Chizuru—without mockery—and how could she fail to respond to that? Very few men had ever made that kind of effort for her. Also, while he had never apologized for his terrifying past actions—that was probably beyond him—he seemed to be making a sincere effort not to repeat them, which meant a great deal to Chizuru. His restraint was his unspoken affirmation that her good opinion now mattered to him. The Shinsengumi had cared for her and cared about her, and she had loved them in return, but she had never come first with them… with Hijikata-san.

Chizuru's musings—brought on by anxiety, most likely—were interrupted when Kazama-san tilted her face up with unyielding fingers. His expression was no longer neutral; instead, the flicker of interest had become something both questioning and a little hungry. He managed to keep his words lighter than his expression.

"Hmmm. I don't know whether to be pleased by your honesty or disappointed that desire for me is only 'part of it.'"

Chizuru tried not to squirm. She was embarrassed by Kazama-san's directness—a little—and had to remind herself that she was over twenty and no longer the young innocent she had once been. Either way, she didn't want to cross any invisible lines, or breach any important customs out of ignorance. That had been the purpose of asking questions. Kazama-san expected the best from those around him. Well, from any  _Oni_  around him, to be more accurate.

Without warning—or apparent effort—Kazama-san lifted Chizuru into his lap. She couldn't quite repress a slight yelp of surprise.

"Now then," Kazama murmured in her ear, no doubt fully able to perceive the way that her heart-rate had suddenly accelerated, "what are the things that intrude upon your natural appreciation of my person?"

Chizuru didn't need to look to know that his mesmerizing eyes were dancing wickedly.

"Well, um, you have referred to me as your wife, or wife-to-be, many times, but you've never really explained what that means, and"—deep breath—"I'm not sure how to behave with you now or, or what you want or even expect."

"Mmm, I see. Anything else?"

"Yes… You said once, when we were travelling, that you had no intention of  _assaulting_  me. Or, um, trying anything really, until we were married."

"I did say something like that; I recall. But really, you were behaving so foolishly—as though moving your futon eight feet away meant anything!—that I needed a way to reassure you so that you would settle down and get some sleep."

"You made a joke of it!" Chizuru retorted. Then she sighed. "And you still are now."

Instead of responding, Kazama ran his thumb along the outside of Chizuru's ear. She was unable to suppress a shiver that had nothing to do with being cold, but indignation stiffened her spine.

"Kazama-san? What—I mean—you shouldn't…" Chizuru's voice trailed off. It wasn't just that she was distracted by the electric sensations caused by Kazama-san's fingers on her skin. She honestly had no idea what to say that wouldn't sound foolish. She couldn't ask what he was doing—she knew, even if the knowledge was a little fuzzy and mostly second-hand. Should she tell him to stop? If so, why? Racing thoughts and lingering uncertainty collided with intense desire—where had that come from?

Chizuru suddenly registered that the fingers caressing her face and neck were trembling slightly. Warm lips met hers, no longer teasing or mocking or daring her to react; instead she sensed, quite clearly, a mix of uncertainty and… something else… something just as strange as Kazama-san being uncertain about anything.  _Need? Longing? Kazama-san needed her?_ Somehow, that thought filtered through the intoxicating warmth and growing passion. For a long time, Chizuru gave herself over to the kiss, amazed at how badly she had underestimated how it would feel; for once, reality outstripped imagination. Her lips had parted, and the small part of her that always seemed to observe life from a distance noted that Kazama's tongue was now tasting every part of her mouth with an intensity that she would have expected from a more intimate act. How could something so intrinsically bizarre feel so good?

One of Kazama's hands was now wound through her hair—he must have somehow discarded the neat tie that had bound it in place. She was burning up and she knew she wasn't alone.  _I'm… not sure about this._ Lust—she finally, completely understood the concept—warred with a tendril of fear.

_Kazama-san!_  "Kazama-san!" With an immense effort, Chizuru dragged her mouth free of his. "Please… stop…" She was panting, and she could feel that her lips were swollen from not-so-gentle bites as well as kisses. They would heal quickly enough, like it or not. Right now, the stinging just made her want to bury her anxiety and return to bliss.

"I… am… trying." Kazama pulled her head against his shoulder, face tense, chest heaving a little. His hands were still in her hair and stroking her face and neck.

A minute passed, then another. The wild hunger lingered in the air, controlled for a time, but still dangerous. Chizuru swallowed and tried to gather her scattered thoughts. She  _wanted_  Kazama; wanted to feel his skin against hers and his mouth on her body. That and more, where  _more_  was not perfectly understood, but was connected to the demanding ache she now felt within her. But she dimly sensed that they might both regret it later— _Kazama-san_  might regret it later—if they abandoned themselves to lust without conscious volition. After so many false starts, after waiting so long, Chizuru wanted everything to be right.

Before she could properly form words, Kazama-san interrupted her thoughts.

"I apologize, Chizuru." His voice was a low growl, difficult to hear clearly. The hand that been caressing her skin was suddenly clenched into a tight fist and then driven into the ground with a force that would have broken human bones. For an instant, Chizuru saw cuts and bruises and blood, and then his hand was whole again.  _I should be better than this!_  She heard the words, although he hadn't spoken.

"You—apologize?" Chizuru was still struggling with sensation and the memory of sensation, at once craving more and anxious about being so totally overwhelmed before she knew where she stood in this new life.

"You finally made up your mind…"

_Meaning?_  Where was the Kazama Chikage-san that Chizuru had come to know and love? Though it was more like know and  _fear_ , followed by a whole range of feelings and reactions (often negative) that had eventually resolved into love. Chizuru watched as Kazama-san pulled himself back together. First the outer layer of fastidious dislike for most of the world around him (but especially humans). Then the inner layer of iron will and absolute self-confidence (perhaps not quite so absolute now, because of Chizuru's demands—it made her conscious that he had been forced to reconsider certain aspects of himself in order to stay with her).

"That wasn't supposed to happen." Kazama appeared to be composed again, but Chizuru wasn't fooled, for once. "I apologized because you were in my care and I—it won't happen again." His voice was flat and cool.

"Oh."  _Then why is your hand still in my hair?_

"I'd forgotten how  _serious_  you can be about everything."  _What?_  Kazama sounded exasperated, which was normal, but his comment was confusing. He allowed his arms to rest loosely around Chizuru's waist. Then, reluctantly: "No, that's not quite it." He glanced at her, ruby eyes narrowed as though evaluating what he saw.

Chizuru was torn between frustration— _on so many levels_ —and worry. She hadn't been sure how to handle Kazama-san before, and now she could only guess at how he would react to another (perceived) bruise to his pride. He hated losing control. He hated to apologize—actually, had she  _ever_  heard him apologize? She drew a blank.

"Kazama-san." Chizuru allowed compassion and concern to override resentment and confusion. She placed a cautious hand against his cheek. "Thank you for allowing me—for making it possible for me—to complete my journey. You have been very generous."

"Mmm."

"As you said, I have made up my mind—finally. That was why I asked the questions I did. Please tell me what happens next."

"In general, or right this moment?" Kazama's tone was slightly sarcastic, and Chizuru could no longer decipher what he was thinking the way she had earlier.

"I was thinking—if you don't mind—right this moment." She held her breath, waiting to see if she'd made the right choice. Usually he scolded her for not being interested enough in the bigger picture.

"What do you  _want_  to happen next?" There was more than a hint of challenge in the words.

He wasn't going to make it easy for her, but he wasn't shutting himself away, either. She must have betrayed her surprise, because his expression relaxed into the hint of a smile.

"I don't want to offend you"—Chizuru ignored a huff of amusement that actually sounded more natural than cynical—"but unless it is wrong for some reason… I want… I would like…" She couldn't do it.

"Yes?" Now he was just teasing.

"… Would you kiss me again, Kazama-san?" She got the words out in a rush, then promptly looked away in embarrassment. "Though I expect it's difficult, just now, so it's okay if you say no."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Chizuru gaped at him. "What?"

"I would much rather have you tell me that you wouldn't accept no as an answer."

"Um…" She knew that her face must resemble a fine summer tomato. Her cheeks were burning. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she mumbled something like, "I don't want you to say no."

Strong hands held her face; she felt her shoulders relax, although the muscles at her core—in her lower abdomen and lower still—contracted. Kazama-san pulled her closer, and she closed her eyes, but the kiss landed on her forehead. She was shocked by how disappointed she felt.

"Are you mine? Are you quite sure?" The words teased, but were undeniably serious. The warm breath on her cheek and ear made it difficult to think again.

"Yes, Kazama-san, I'm quite sure." He was using the same words as always—possessive, demanding—but he no longer saw her as a chattel. Mostly. Chizuru forgave him the "mostly", because in the end he had not treated her as a possession, despite the cost to himself and his evident struggle to understand why he shouldn't. She would have to trust him not to return to his old ways the moment she agreed to be his.

"Then I am yours. It is quite simple, really, although there will be more official arrangements later."

Chizuru's head would have snapped up in surprise—and with her luck she probably would have injured him somehow—but she couldn't move. While she was still trying to grasp how  _easy_  Kazama-san made it sound, he brought his mouth against her neck, first kissing the soft skin just above her collar, and then taking it between his teeth with some force. Chizuru gasped at the unexpected assault, but any pain was buried in a wave of pleasure, and she found herself arching backward to expose more of her throat. The tight warmth in her belly and the ache between her legs grew stronger. Torn between embarrassing need and the ardent wish to be an aware participant in whatever they decided to share, she murmured: "But what happens next, Kazama-san? You still haven't answered…"

The world tilted, and Chizuru found herself on her back, pinned tightly to the ground by Kazama-san's weight on her body and his hands on her wrists. For some reason, the anxiety didn't return, even though she knew herself to be trapped. The little observer in her mind pointed out that he'd taken enough time to lay her on one of the bedrolls, rather than the cold and rocky earth as she had thought.  _That's nice… but could you please shut up now?_ Sometimes her internal narrative was annoying.

"No complaints?" Kazama growled softly, kissing her hard on the mouth before sitting up across her hips and starting to loosen her collar and the white ties of her blouse. "I should have known that nothing would follow the rules with you."

"N-No…" Chizuru was trying not to press herself upwards against him, which would be mortifying—probably.

"I didn't expect this," her—husband-to-be?—muttered in a low voice, fingers now flying deftly over the buttons of her tunic and then blouse. His breathing was shallow and rather rapid; his face was tight with concentration. "A few decorous kisses, perhaps"—he pressed a far-from-decorous kiss against the base of her throat—"and then enough time to convince you that you obviously belonged with me." He shot her a fierce look from half-lidded eyes, as if to say that she had been unbearably stubborn about the whole thing.

Chizuru found that she could only process part of what he was saying. She seemed to be melting, and she couldn't stop the soft, almost keening sounds that she could hear herself making. She really shouldn't feel like this, of course… would he hold her cheap for wanting him so much? That anxiety was cut off abruptly as Kazama-san's strong, sure hands rid her of the last of her shirt and vest and moved to caress her breasts. When his fingers first teased, and then stroked her rosy nipples, she cried aloud and squirmed under him, rubbing the damp, swollen, sensitive skin between her legs against him as well as she could.  _So much for self-control_.

"Kazama-san!"  _This is overwhelming… Why am I not afraid this time?_  But that thought disappeared immediately into the overheated air between them.

"I didn't know it would be like this!" Kazama snarled, pale hair ghostly against the night sky and ruby eyes half-lidded, but lit from within. "I wanted to carry you home—even if I might need to reclaim my home!—and wait for your grieving to be done, and then make you want me so much that you could never tear yourself from my side…" Abruptly, he leaned forward, hands gripping her upper arms, hungry mouth pressed to hers with enough force that she whimpered at the bruising and the way his sharp teeth nicked her lips. The pain was fleeting, but only seemed to make her more aware of his weight, and his tongue probing deep inside her mouth, and the cold metal of his belt buckle pressing against her hot, exposed skin.

For a time, the silence of the deepening night was only broken by panting breaths and Chizuru's occasional cries of arousal and pleasure, which she kept attempting to repress. At some point, Kazama started trailing bites and kisses down her body, one hand braced against the ground and the other supporting or caressing Chizuru's body.

"Not enough."

"Mm?" Chizuru blinked up at him. On the one hand, some part of her was still slightly shocked by the proceedings. On the other, propriety seemed entirely unimportant. If anything really surprised her, it was Kazama-san's intensity and lack of concern for proper arrangements. He had always seemed very strict and traditional in many ways. Or was that why he had been so insistent on having Chizuru's clear acknowledgment that they were intended for each other? She wished she knew more about Oni customs.

Kazama-san had ignored her question (if it could be called that). Flushed and aroused though he clearly was, his fingers were as deft as usual with the buckle of her belt, the knot of her sash, and the buttons of her fitted trousers.  _Trousers? Oh!_  Warm fingers traced her hip bones before brushing lightly across the warm, embarrassingly damp area further down.

"Ah!" This cry was entirely unmuted. Chizuru felt the blood hammering in her ears, as the unexpected, gentle touch set her nerves on fire. She quivered, swallowed, forced her eyes open enough to meet the intent, intense gaze of glowing eyes. "I…"

"Better."

"But I—but Kazama-san…" Chizuru scrubbed at her eyes. She had no idea what she wanted to say. "You are still fully dressed?"

"That is by your choice, my wife, not mine."

"We're not married yet, are we?"  _Why do I care? I can't even think straight. I don't understand. What's my choice?_

"You are mine and I am yours. You have made me wait a long time for you, Chizuru." Kazama's hands were tracing idle circles on Chizuru's lower belly; she bit her lower lip and tried not to rub herself too obviously against them. With absolute certainty that bordered on indifference, Kazama added: "We will be married."

Before Chizuru could comment or ask anything further, warm lips and sharp teeth returned to her breasts, kissing, teasing and suckling with maddening gentleness. She wanted more; questions and concerns forgotten, she arched her body upward in a way that she couldn't have imagined before. Kazama's mouth and hands moved downward again, warming the skin with kisses and bruises in a way that made Chizuru quiver.

Almost without her noticing, Kazama had removed the last of her clothing. She barely felt the cold night breeze across her skin—if anything, she was too warm, and as breathless as though she had been running for hours. But she hadn't done anything! That thought made her reach out, to find some way to give something back… Her fingertips touched hair like silk, and she smiled at the softness. She wished he would undress as well; she had only seen glimpses before, but she was certain that his body matched his beautiful face. Although—

Without warning, Kazama's warm, wet, coaxing tongue brushed deliberately across the bundle of aching nerves between her legs. Chizuru's body convulsed, and only his implacable hands on her hips kept her more or less where she was. Her eyes closed—or rolled back—and she let out a strangled cry that she barely heard, although it was apparently loud enough to better satisfy her lover. He growled, ruby eyes now ringed with Oni gold, and then set about reducing Chizuru to a moaning, gasping, pleading mess. With great care, he kissed and tasted every part of her sweet center, returning often to the place that made her cry out again and again.

He only moved once from his self-appointed task, to demand that she focus on him and nothing else. He wanted to hear her moans as she hovered between ecstasy and the desperation of near-climax. She shouldn't care who heard her. Anything beyond his touch should be irrelevant. Besides… he couldn't entirely deny his relief at the way that her face, her shocked reactions, reassured him that nobody had touched her this way before. He had never been certain until now, although he had locked away his doubts and told himself that it didn't matter (it did).

"Chizuru…" Kazama lifted his head to admire her, finally able to relax his own guard because of her absolute vulnerability: her unseeing eyes under heavy lids, the wild tangles in her sweat-dampened hair, the transparent, almost painful bliss on her face as she sought release. He knew that he wasn't quite ready—not yet—to allow her to see him the same way; he was glad that her inhibitions earlier had forced him to regain the control he needed. If he suspected that Chizuru had instinctively known that, he preferred not to dwell on it.

With tongue and lips and teeth and strong fingers he caressed every sensitive nerve until she reached the last of her self-imposed reserve and shook against him, whispering his name over and over before falling into ecstasy with a wordless, keening cry of passion. He held her close then, feeling their heart-beats racing to the same wild tempo, relieving some small part of his own aching need by sharing her warmth and pleasure.

After a while, Chizuru stirred. Her body was sated and heavy; she wasn't quite sure she could move. She was still naked, but tucked under two heavy blankets. Forcing her eyes open, she discovered Kazama-san stripping off his tailored wool coat, hair silver in the moonlight. He really was beautiful. She could feel her cheeks darken with embarrassment. Memories of the immediate past returned in force.

"Are you well, Chizuru?" Kazama arranged his coat over Chizuru's blankets, apparently heedless of the cool night air. He sat on a bedroll next to hers, although she doubted he planned to sleep.

"I am very well, Kazama-san." Blood continued to suffuse her cheeks, but she resisted the desire to hide her face and spoke resolutely.

"Then I am pleased." To Chizuru's surprise, there was no gloating in his voice or expression. Fortunately for her peace of mind, his next words were much more like his usual self: "And this time you will  _not_  insult me by moving your bed eight feet away from mine."

* * *

**END**

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**A/Note:**  (Whew!) Thank you for reading, and to those who are preparing for Christmas, New Year, or other holiday events, good luck and may you find some time to relax!

Also, a reminder that notes and reviews are always appreciated.  **(^u^)/**


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